


Swing

by the_accidental_horcrux



Series: INKTOBER [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Horror, Inktober, Murder, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_accidental_horcrux/pseuds/the_accidental_horcrux
Summary: George Carlyle's week was like any other. Until it wasn't.
Series: INKTOBER [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952683
Kudos: 1





	Swing

**Author's Note:**

> OK! this one isn't technically a prompt for Inktober 2020, but I wrote it for last year's Inktober so I figured I'd post it anyway. This one has some not nice themes so I'm going to put them in the endnotes! Also, I wrote this for a PRT response to Hamlet so do with that what you will. Also if you read this already last year when I made everyone read it before I handed it in, no you didn't.

“George, Marilee isn’t home,” Johnathan Carlyle said gently, laying a hand on his husband’s arm when he noticed him setting the table for three. It had been their family tradition, having breakfast before school and work. George was going to continue with the tradition even though they hadn’t seen their daughter since Friday, and it was now Monday. 

“Yet! She’s probably stayed over at the Miltons’, you know,” George said back, a cheery grin on his face. His daughter, since adoption, had never once missed a family breakfast. Just because she spent the weekend out, didn’t mean she was going to break that tradition now.

Johnathan’s expression became pinched, eyebrows pulling together. He seemed to have picked his words carefully, speaking them each slowly as if talking to a toddler, “Darling, Marilee hasn’t contacted us since Friday. Don’t you remember the school calling to inform us that she never came to class?”

“Of course I remember that, Johnathan, but just because a girl skips class every once in a while is not cause for concern.” He couldn’t help the full smile that formed on his face, thinking of their little daughter. Not so little anymore, being twelve and all. Placing the food on everyone’s plates, George sat down to eat.

“And do you remember the blood they found at that park on Fifth and Seventeenth? Right on the way to Mar’s school, the swingset she liked?” Johnathan asked carefully again, frown deepening on his face.

“Well of course, which is why I was going to drive her to school on my way to work today so she wouldn’t get wrapped up in whatever is going on. I heard that a girl about Marilee’s age was abducted not too long ago. I can only imagine what those parents must be going through. And that they don’t know who had done such a thing or why? It must be terrible,” George continued to eat his food and sip his coffee, only glancing at his watch once to check the time. He was in no rush.

Johnathan stared dumbfoundedly, tears glistening in his eyes. “Yes,” he began, “that girl, she went missing on  _ Friday _ , and her blood was found on the concrete by the park on  _ Fifth and Seventeenth _ .” His words were slow as his eyes seemed to search George’s face for something.

“Marilee best be getting home soon, otherwise you’ll have to drive her to school. I’ll have to be leaving for work around now, anyway. And her eggs will get cold. Perhaps you should call the Miltons?” George grabbed a piece of toast and stood from the table, leaning down to kiss his husband on the forehead before heading towards the stairs to finish getting ready for the day. Before he left the kitchen, though, he paused for a moment and turned back to face Johnathan. “Are you alright, honey?” There was concern in his voice as he finally took in the pinched expression and glassy eyes of his husband.

“Just fine, George,” Johnathan said, choked up. He had been this way since their argument on Saturday night, that George couldn’t remember the subject of, but had left them both in tears. Neither had spoken about it since.

George, of course, knew his husband well. And after knowing him for so long, he knew that it was best to leave Johnathan alone when he didn’t want to talk about his problems. “Alright, well I’ll see you after work, and make sure you don’t forget to give Marilee the lunch I packed her before you drive her to school, it’s on the counter.”

“Of course,” Johnathan said, staring blankly at the third plate on the table, full of food.

* * *

On the radio on George’s way to work, the host spoke solemnly. “-shoe of a missing twelve-year-old girl was found in the gutter of Seventeenth Avenue, near Second Street. It was a blue trainer with pink flowers. Her other shoe remains missing. If anyone has seen or heard anything, the authorities are asking for your cooperation in this investigation. Please call to 1-888-627-4533 or 1-888-MAR-”

“That’s strange,” George said to himself, drowning out the radio, “Marilee has blue trainers with pink flowers, too. Must be a popular shoe this year.”

“-the family would just like their little girl home,” the radio announcer prattled on.

George switched the radio off and continued on his way to work without much incident.

His colleagues acted strangely, and George couldn’t help but wonder if everyone was coming down with the flu. No one said anything, just shot him strange looks. George got the distinct impression that he was missing something. Did he have something on his face?

* * *

“How was Marilee before school?” George asked, after kissing his husband hello.

“Layla Milton was just here, wanted to see Marilee,” Johnathan said instead of responding to the question. Ah, so Marilee must have gone back with the Miltons again. Come to think of it, George did remember seeing Mrs. Milton driving away as he pulled up, though, oddly, she didn’t wave back as he drove past. Perhaps she was having an off day.

“The missing girl had the same shoes as our Marilee, you know,” George said, shaking his head. Those poor parents.

“Yes, I suppose she would have,” Johnathan responded, voice sounding strained.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Geroge asked again, looking into his husband’s eyes.

“Marilee’s lunch containers are on the counter,” Johnathan said instead, once again dodging the question. He looked away from George as he continued, “Would you put them in the dishwasher while I go change the laundry?”

“Of course,” George agreed, refraining from commenting on the abrupt change of subject a second time. Upon arrival to the kitchen, he saw the containers littering the counter, not a thing left in them. Marilee must’ve been hungry, it had been a big lunch. Chuckling, George loaded the containers into the dishwasher and left to his study to finish work.

* * *

Tuesday and Wednesday passed much the same for the Carlyles, with George narrowly missing his daughter both days because he needed to go into work early. People kept doing strange things, and George thought that maybe he had missed something big with all of the odd occurrences and weird behaviour. When he had gone into Marilee’s room to make her bed and straighten things out, he had found it quite clean. Perhaps his daughter was finally learning to tidy up after herself.

The other girl was still missing, and no further details were released to the public beyond the knowledge that her other shoe was found by 10th and 17th, five blocks from the blood, and seven from the other shoe.

Of course, Wednesday night was a different story, when Johnathan got a call from the sheriff’s department and went to take the call in another room.

“George, we have to go down to the station,” Johnathan said carefully, tears freely streaming down his face.

“Johnathan, what’s wrong?” George asked, reaching for his husband.

“Just get your coat, we have to go. I can’t drive right now.” Johnathan moved away from George’s hand, shrugging it off.

“Alright, alright,” George conceded, moving to quickly grab his coat and car keys.

The ride to the station was passed in silence. The radio had been on, with the announcer talking about a possible new progression in the girl’s case, but Johnathan turned it off and refused to speak to why even when questioned.

Arriving at the station, they were directed to the morgue, and George had an awful thought that this might be about Johnathan’s brother, Leon, or maybe about his own brother, Michael.

* * *

Friday was the day that George came back to himself. Thursday was spent full of grief so strong that he couldn’t even think. The body of his twelve-year-old daughter was found at the same park the blood was, 5th and 17th. She had been dead since Monday morning, five days previously, and George had managed to convince himself that all the signs were ones of complete coincidence. Her death had been an accident, the coroner said, eyes apologetic. The kidnappers had wanted to take her alive, but she had put up a fight and died quickly. A blow to the back of the head as she fell off the park swings. George tuned out after that.

The clarity he felt on Friday was strong as he visited the place where they found her. He had her shoes with him, blue trainers with pink flowers, holding them in his hands. He wondered if his daughter had been scared when she died, if she had wanted her daddy to hold her hand and tell her that things would be all right.

He sat on the spot that was no longer cordoned off by police tape because the blood had been scrubbed away, where his daughter had laid dying, alone. The sheriff had caught the men who had done this very quickly. When they returned the body, they hadn’t been as careful and had left fingerprints all around the scene. Two men with prior felony charges. Two men and a bad decision had taken his daughter away from him. 

The weight of the gun in his hand was grounding, freeing. He had been going to pay a visit to the men who had ruined his life, but on his way to the station, he realized that if he did this, if he killed them, they would only get peace, and not justice. They wouldn’t have to face the reality of what they’d done, day in and day out. No, killing them would be like giving them hope and freedom, something they didn’t deserve. Even the thought of George giving them an easy way out of the world that they had ruined made him sick.

George Carlyle’s face was wet with tears when he finally came to a decision. He was the closest he’d ever be to his daughter again, here on the concrete ground of 5th and 17th, back to her favourite swingset. What was that saying again? The world wouldn’t end with a bang, but a whimper? Something like that. Marilee had been George’s whole world, and now she was gone forever. He repeated the line to himself again as he lifted the gun to his temple. A whimper left his lips, which progressed to sobs as he thought of his daughter crying and alone, right beside him. The noises that escaped him were guttural and heart-wrenching. 

_ This is the way the world ends, not with a- _

Bang.

**Author's Note:**

> _WARNINGS: off-screen child abduction and murder, dangerous amounts of denial, suicide_
> 
> Anyway.... I hope you... enjoyed? It's not really a horror-y one but it's a vibe I guess. 
> 
> So yeah... also I WILL have 31 works in this, might need to change the thing from inktober 2020 to just inktober but I will do this even if it kills me and takes 20 years.


End file.
